


Shadows More than Darkness

by saltandlimes



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blood As Lube, Cannibalism, Gore, M/M, but hux eats people ok, but it's not hux or ren's blood, dead stormtrooper: do not eat, i dunno what to say here y'all, monster hux, well not exactly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:26:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandlimes/pseuds/saltandlimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo has heard the sayings. He’s well acquainted with the whispers that pass throughout the First Order’s massive fleet. Something lurks in the darkness. Something with teeth, that takes stormtroopers as they pass through the halls.</p><p>He doesn't believe, though</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows More than Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> I asked around about monster!hux and [space-girlfriends](http://space-girlfriends.tumblr.com/) delivered with the basis for this lovely little fellow. I may have gone a little overboard with it. ;)
> 
> Want to know more about this au? Check out [At the Edge of Vision](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8059612) for the backstory.

_Be careful of the shadows on the Finalizer. They bite._

Kylo has heard the sayings. He’s well acquainted with the whispers that pass throughout the First Order’s massive fleet. Something lurks in the darkness. Something with teeth, that takes stormtroopers as they pass through the halls. That leaves the lower decks smeared with blood, strewn with fragments of bone, of shattered bodies. 

He doesn’t believe though. No, that’s nonsense. A fantasy spun up to make the flagship even more menacing. There are no such things as monsters. 

Save for the ones that we all create ourselves. 

He should know. He’s spent the past few years molding a new one out of the fragile flesh and blood that made up Ben Solo. Creating a new creature that will not break, that is made of something stronger that that. 

So when he steps onto the Finalizer and finds that, whatever the truth is, the crew believes the rumors, he’s disgusted. They scurry about, eyes darting side to side. On the upper decks it isn’t much of a problem. There, officers stalk from place to place, hats on carefully combed hair, uniforms perfectly pressed. They seem more afraid of their commanding officer than of whatever lurks in the dark. 

(And that makes Kylo scoff too. As if Hux is anything more than a stuffed shirt. As if they need to fear him.)

But on the lower levels, where the stormtroopers bunk and technicians flutter from console to console, there everyone treads lightly. They avoid the darker corridors if they walk alone. They trade stories, tales of noises heard in the dark. They remind one another to check in via com link. 

And it’s hard to imagine that this is anything more than a set of wild fantasies. Hard to believe, at least, until Kylo glimpses something in the mind of a passing trooper. And there’s blood on the floor, so much blood, and the trooper’s sure that sanitation on other ships is not this bad a job. Sure that somewhere else he wouldn’t have to spend hours scrubbing red off the floor, desperately grateful for the filter in his helmet. 

That’s when Kylo starts to believe. 

And once he accepts that it’s not all smoke and mirrors, he sees it everywhere. The fear on the ship, it’s overwhelming. So thick he can almost taste it. It swirls around him as he walks down the long corridors, as he stomps across the bridge. And at first he basks in it, lets it feed him. But it’s not enough, not quite right. Because… Because they aren’t afraid of _him_. No, certainly not. 

They hunch over as he walks by, turn hurriedly back to their consoles, but it’s nothing compared to the raw terror that he feels in the back of their minds. Nothing like the fear that floods the corridors. He can almost taste it, thick on his tongue, cloying and sweet. It’s everywhere. 

Almost everywhere, that is. Captain Phasma, stolid and gleaming, never seems to feel it. Kylo finds himself circling towards her on the bridge. Spiraling into the island of calm, to the faint tinge of annoyance that is the only emotion sloughing off her sparkling shoulders. Shadowing her, if only get a momentary relief from the overwhelming flood of horror that fills every breathing space of the ship. 

And he doesn’t want to ask. He really doesn’t. But eventually it becomes too much. He simply has to know. How, on this timetable bound, regimented military ship, is this possible? How is he, with his heavy tread, his mask, his stench of blood and ash, how is he not the greatest thing the crew has to fear while on board? And so he pulls her aside one day, mutters the question in short, low tones. 

“I don’t think, sir, that it’s really my place to tell you that.” He straightens himself. Sometimes he wishes Phasma was just a little shorter. It’s a challenge to properly look at her, to look down at the shine of her faceplate. 

“Captain Phasma, I’m not going to ask again.” His voice hisses through the vocoder, sharp and low. 

“And I’m not going to tell you. But if you really want to know, I’d advise you to spend some time around H deck. Perhaps tonight. Perhaps tomorrow. You might learn something there.” And with that, Phasma stalks off, boots clicking on the floor. Kylo almost follows, calls her back to ask, to wonder. But something stops him. Curiosity, perhaps? A strange willingness to play the game.

And so, Kylo waits. Spends a few hours meditating in his room, kneeling before the guiding light of his self-reconstruction. Letting himself fill up with worry, wonder, curiosity, confusion, fear. Everything. Open and unbarred. And by the time he rouses himself, ice-cold sparks dance around him, the Dark caressing and guiding every thump of his foot against the floor. He walks to the lift. 

The ride down to H deck is slow, silent. The ship is mostly asleep now, deep into artificial night, the desperate attempt to preserve human circadian rhythms far away from the set of any sun. A bleary eyed lieutenant travels with Kylo from B to F decks, but stumbles out long before Kylo reaches his destination. And when Kylo finally steps off the lift, there is no one about. The long corridor leading towards the cargo holds that make up the bulk of this level is deserted. Yet Kylo knows that somewhere, in little cubby-hole offices and sequestered corners, this level is full up. 

There is not a wasted ounce of space on a starship. No levels left completely unmanned, even late into third shift, when no one but the watch is awake. The silence here is illusory, nothing more than a blanketing facade, concealing the hidden activity beneath. He takes a deep breath. False though it is, Kylo is happy to be here, alone. Relieved, almost. The stench of fear is not so thick, not so cloying. 

He heads down the corridor. He has no notion of what to look for. _He might learn something_ , but what and where? Not here, in this long liminal world, a transit corridor to the lifts with it’s own creeping sense of displacement. Not here, where it seems that any moment, the room will fill during a shift change. Not here, in this empty artery, aching for its next infusion, the next flood of exhausted personnel. 

No, he keeps walking. The corridor branches in front of him. Kylo closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. And there! There is something, down one passage. Nothing more than a tremor, a distance ache and hunger and need, but it is more than the great emptiness that echoes up from the long dark of the other corridor. He turns. Steps carefully into the smaller passageway. There’s a strange smell in the air. 

Kylo finds his feet starting to move faster, unbidden. There’s something on the edge of hearing, a creaking, tearing sound. Something squelches, rotting fruit splatting against a board, the splatter of decay and grime. It’s growing louder as he strides down the corridor. Then he rounds a corner. 

The hall ahead is lined with doors into two of the smaller cargo bays. Not the huge ones connected directly to great hangar doors. No, these are for longer term storage, replacement parts. Rarely opened. 

The door to one stands ajar. And from inside, trickling out in little gasping spurts of sound, is the noise that’s been trembling on the edge of Kylo’s consciousness. This close, it’s wetter, thicker. Kylo pushes open the door. 

And stands, frozen. 

Looks down at his boots, and wonders if this will finally ruin them forever. Mission upon mission for Snoke, with the knights, and he’s never seen them like this. Red lapping at the edges, caressing them in iron-ripe sludge. The floor is littered. Covered in scraps of pale softness, and before Kylo can stop himself, he reaches down. Picks one up and lets it slide through his fingers. It’s slippery warm, a bit of fat clinging to the underside. He drops it again. 

_Someone is going to have to clean this up._

It’s a fleeting thought, and he almost laughs. But then, then he finally focuses on the figure kneeling in the middle of the room. And when he walked in, he was too shocked by the scene, by the blood that lies thick on the floor and the shattered white armor that lurks in corners. But now, now he sees. 

There’s a man, a creature, kneeling in the center of the room. Pale face upturned to Kylo, bright eyes that are flames in the dark. Naked. And he’s painted in the filth that covers the room. There’s a streak of blood across one shoulder, dripping slow down a narrow chest. Thighs tensed with something laid across them. 

A hand. 

And as Kylo watches, the creature, the man, he opens his mouth. Spits something onto the floor, and it takes a second for Kylo to realize it’s a finger bone. That the hand in his lap is missing more than one digit. 

Bright red hair. 

Kylo can’t breathe. There’s only one person on Finalizer who looks like this. And it hardly matters that he’s never seen General Hux except for in his absurd uniform, shoulders wide with the weight of it. This can be no one else. Hux smiles at him, and a tongue sneaks out to lick blood away from his narrow lips. 

Before Kylo knows what he’s doing, he’s across the room, falling to his knees to match Hux. To stare, and ponder, and marvel. Hux’s hands are stained red. And his nails are long, too long, and Kylo realizes he’s never seen Hux without gloves on. Never seen these, these things that cannot truly be called hands but must be claws, curved nails and sharp knuckles. Hux smiles again, and this close, Kylo can see the points on his teeth, the way that they’re red too, tight and sharp. 

He reaches out, and he’s not sure what he’s going to do before he brushes something out of Hux’s hair. A fingernail, he thinks. His heart feels tight in his chest, fluttering out of control, and he’s not sure if it’s from relief, from excitement, from something else. Something darker, that burns in the pit of his stomach, twisting it up, fluttering through him to lurk in his spine, in his fingers, in his cock. 

“So it’s you?” His own voice echoes in his head, a bell ringing tight in the fetid air. 

“What’s me, Ren?” Hux doesn’t even blink, eyes fixed on Kylo’s face. Instead, instead he reaches down beside himself, grabs something off the floor. Fingers hold the morsel delicately to his own lips, and that tongue flicks out again. Pulls the scrap into Hux’s waiting mouth. Hux chews. Extravagantly, loudly, a mess of thick sounds. Kylo can feel his cock fill even more as Hux stares at him. 

“You’re the one they’re all afraid of. You’re the monster behind the stories. It’s been you.” Kylo’s panting, doesn’t know what else to say, what to do. Wants, somehow, to grab hold of Hux and find his hands clenched on nothingness. To know that he’s imaging this, that this nightmare is nothing more than the phantom menace of his dreams. Aches to believe that were this real, he would not be panting to touch, to paw at this ruin of a creature before him. Yet at the same time he wants, needs desperately, for that not to be the case. For this not to be a dream. For it to be real, Hux a broken horror that matches the one Kylo himself has become. 

“Maybe.” Hux swallows before the word, throat working, obscene. “Aren’t you afraid too?” And that’s too much. Because maybe, maybe he was. When he first walked in, was rooted to the floor by the sight of carnage unexpected, he might have been afraid. But now, now there is nothing farther away from his thoughts. No, now there is something else making his blood hum through his veins. 

“Or perhaps you aren’t.” Hux stretches upward, body on display. “Perhaps, Ren, perhaps you’re _interested._ Perhaps you’re wondering what it feels like. Perhaps you want to see for yourself.” Hux stretches a clawed hand upward, fingers trembling in front of Kylo’s face. And Kylo reaches out, traces down the sharp nails and harsh knuckles. Hux’s hand is warm underneath his. He reaches past, draws a finger along the swell of Hux’s lip. It’s wet. 

Suddenly, all of an instant, something snaps inside him. He tears off his cowl, outer tunic. And he’s got his hands on Hux’s shoulders, pressing forwards, to plaster himself to Hux’s slick body. The taste of death is heavy on Hux’s lips. Sweet, and Kylo’s always wondered what death tastes like. Wondered about this, about kneeling in a pool of blood and licking it away from a lover’s lips. 

Beneath his hands, Hux squirms. There’s a splat, a thud, and Kylo realizes that the hand has fallen off of Hux’s lap. He presses closer. He’s got his hands on Hux’s soft waist now, squeezing, tight on hot flesh. A sharp tooth presses into his lip, and Kylo tastes his own blood against his teeth. He pulls away, chest heaving. 

And he doesn’t know how this happened. Why he needs this, might not live out the night without it. Why somehow, Hux, cold, calculated Hux, kneeling here with the remains of a stormtrooper scattered about him, has set something sparking inside him that is almost always dormant. 

He doesn’t really care. 

No, there will be time for worries later. Time for wonders at this creature, this monster that lurks in the body of a general and only lets its claws out at night. Now, though, now Kylo _needs more._

His hands slide over Hux’s waist to wrap around his ass, pull Hux closer across the floor. Cup around soft flesh and smooth skin, and Hux comes willingly enough. Tumbles forward, and he’s kneeling between the splay of Kylo’s legs now. His claws come up to scratch lines across Kylo’s back as he leans in for another kiss. 

Kylo’s skin is on fire. And he needs more, needs to lose himself in Hux, to be consumed by him. To find a place inside Hux and rest there, broken over this horror. He slides a finger across Hux’s ass, slips it between the cheeks. And for a moment he’s half afraid, wonders if Hux will be human here too. But then he finds Hux’s hole. 

There’s a low groan when he strokes over it, and for a moment Kylo isn’t sure if Hux is moaning or if he himself is. Then Hux whimpers, animal grunt and whine, and Kylo pushes a fingertip inside him. Looks down, and Hux’s dick is thick and hard, pressing up against a soft, full belly. Kylo’s own cock twitches. He pulls his finger away hurriedly, needs to get Hux opened up, ready for him. 

“Hux…” he breathes, and for a second he can’t speak, can only stare at Hux’s grimace of pleasure, his eyes screwed up and tight in his face. But then, then Hux opens them and cocks his head to one side, waiting. 

“On all fours. I’m going to fuck you, fuck you like the monster you are, spill in that pretty ass, and you’ll be filled up with me too.” Now that Kylo’s started talking, it spills out, even as Hux leans forward to rest his weight on those claws, arches his back so his ass is high in the air. 

“You’ll like that, won’t you? Nothing but an animal, crouching here naken, food all over the floor. You’ll like to get fucked like a bitch in heat, like me to use you.” Hux’s eyes gleam in the dark as he looks over his shoulder. Kylo runs his hand through the mess on the floor, fingers slick. And the he’s pressing a finger all the way into Hux, deep and sure. Hux groans. And Kylo, Kylo can’t shut up, watches as he nudges at Hux’s hole, opens it up. 

“Dirty little fuck, aren’t you? Can’t even eat properly, make a mess like this, and someone else is gonna have to clean this up, Hux.” A sudden thought strikes Kylo, even as he presses a second finger inside Hux, stretches him apart in slow sure movements. 

“I bet that’s what you want, though. Want everyone to see the mess you’ve made. Do you get off on it, Hux? Stroke yourself reading reports, hearing accounts from terrified sanitation workers?” Hux nods, pushing back onto Kylo’s fingers. And there’s three now, and Hux opens up so well. Doesn’t cry out, even though this is too fast, too rough, has to hurt. (It would hurt if Hux were human, and maybe he isn’t, and maybe Kylo doesn’t care whether he is or not.)

“You would too.” Hux’s voice is a shock, thick and stilted as he pants around Kylo’s fingers. “Don’t try to be superior, Ren. You’d fucking get off on it, all those stupid fuckers terrified, hoping that I’ll save them from the monster in the dark. It’s hilarious…” Hux cuts off as Kylo twists his fingers sharply, moans, sweet little whimpers pouring out of his mouth as Kylo pulls his fingers out. 

“Gonna fuck you now, Hux. Gonna get my cock in you, and you’ll be so full.” Hux nods, and Kylo starts to push in. Clamps his hands on Hux’s hips, holds him still. And he’s sliding into Hux’s ass, wet heat all around him, holding tight. He stares downward, to where his dick disappears into Hux’s body. It’s intoxicating. Maddening, and Kylo shouldn’t worry about that, he knows. Shouldn’t worry about how wrong this is, because if he’s a monster, Hux is something much worse. 

Finally, finally he’s balls deep. Can feel Hux panting around him, the thunder of Hux’s heart and pulse. Pulls out just the littlest bit, slides in again. It feels so good, sparks radiating through his body to settle through his hair, eyes, fingertips, too bright and he’s made of fire. 

“Fuck me, you shit. Fuck me.” Hux tires to shove back onto his cock and Kylo smiles. But he slides all the way out, feels the suck and pull of Hux’s ass around his cock. He moans. Pushes forward and feels the drag of Hux’s hole, tight around him. Moves faster, and as he does, he feels himself starting to talk again, words pouring out like the sweat dripping off his forehead. 

“I was wrong about you, Hux. So fucking wrong. You’re not a buttoned up little puppet. No, you’re something much worse, aren’t you?” He mouths at Hux’s shoulder, leaning over to plaster his chest to Hux’s back. He wishes he’d bothered to take off his undershirt, do more than unlace his leggings, but it’s too late for now, and he’ll do it next time. Hux moans, a harsh sound against the slap of skin on skin, the liquid slurp of their knees sliding on the floor. 

“You’re just a mindless monster, aren’t you?” Kylo slides a hand around from Hux hip. Runs it over Hux’s belly, strokes at the curve of it as he presses deep inside Hux. “Look at you, Hux. Look at what do to your troops just to fill yourself up, look at you leave everything a mess just so you can satisfy yourself.” He squeezes hard at the soft flesh and Hux gasps, arches into his hand. 

“Such a slut for it. Not enough that you’ve gorged yourself on the fucking crew. No, you’ve gotta stuff yourself with my cock.” He grabs tighter. He’s so close, teetering on the edge. Needs to pour himself into Hux, debauched and moaning underneath him. Hux, who’s covered in blood and sweat and the Force only knows what else. Satiated, belly heavy with it against Kylo’s palm. Kylo wraps a hand around Hux’s cock, digs the other into his waist. And then, then Hux is coming, back bowing even farther. Claws rasping on the floor, digging into the metal and leaving long scrapes in it. 

And somehow, somehow that’s what makes Kylo come. The fact that Hux, Hux with his little hat and stupid greatcoat and petty rivalries, Hux can tear the ship apart with his bare hands - Kylo’s drunk on it. And he pushes forward again, feels Hux’s ass go slick with Kylo’s release, pours deep inside Hux and Kylo groans deep as it shudders through him. 

When Kylo’s cock finally stops twitching, when his breathing starts to slow, he collapses forward, pressing Hux to the floor. And his clothes are going to be ruined, to reek of blood and this hellscape of torn flesh, but Kylo doesn’t care. Instead, instead he pulls Hux closer to him, curls around him and slides his hand up from Hux’s belly to cup his chin. He’s spooned around Hux’s back, and when he slips a finger inside that mouth, feels Hux’s teeth press lightly into it as he starts to suck, Kylo moans. Nuzzles into the short hairs at the back of Hux’s neck. Hux licks a soft tongue over his hand, cleans away the come and blood that coat Kylo’s fingers like a small, fierce creature that has been momentarily tamed. Nips lightly at the meat of Kylo’s thumb, and Kylo can’t help but smile into Hux’s skin. 

Because maybe there is a greater monster here than he will ever be. Maybe the Finalizer is cursed, shadows more than simply darkness. But Kylo thinks that maybe, _just maybe_ , that’s exactly how he wants it to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Of course, thanks go to [artyaourter](http://artyaourter.tumblr.com/) for not letting me forget to tag this and for helping as always. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [saltandlimes](http://saltandlimes.tumblr.com/)


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